


here come the girls (girls)

by toxica939



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 04:16:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15477468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxica939/pseuds/toxica939
Summary: The stag nights





	here come the girls (girls)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dirtylittlegreasemonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtylittlegreasemonkey/gifts).



> for clo, a constant inspiriation

Aaron's in Prague. He'd been hustled out the door yesterday morning by a tittering Paddy, Cain stood in the open door of his car at the end of the drive.

Robert, who had been in on the plan since one of Aaron's twatty French mates came up with it, and had very graciously decided not to fill the bag he'd packed with all of Aaron's rankest scrapping clothes, had barely gotten the chance to kiss him goodbye.

“Have fun,” he'd said, ignoring Paddy bobbing like a cork in the entrance way. He'd given Aaron that smirk he likes, stepped in to bump their chests together. “Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

Aaron had visibly bitten back his retort to that. But he'd rubbed Robert's arm, pressed a dry, beard-scratchy kiss to Robert's lips, and told him he'd ring when they got there.

Robert had watched Paddy wrap an arm around Aaron's shoulders, watched him squirm for show before his hand settled between Paddy's shoulder blades. He's all bark and bluster, is his Aaron, but even he couldn't hide his quiet delight at being surprised with a weekend long stag and the promise of bottomless beer.

Robert doesn't begrudge Aaron his family, someone like Aaron deserves all the love they're given. And he revels in it, no matter how much he might protest. He'd never take it for granted.

Robert hopes he's having a brilliant time. He really does. But he misses him; Seb slept like shit last night, Liv's left sticky coke rings all over the kitchen table, and Robert would be a liar if he said he didn't wish he had a group of continental knobheads desperate to sweep him away for one last weekend of freedom.

Instead, he's sitting in his own kitchen, looking mournfully at the comfort of his sofa and the boxset he was going to plough through. Now he's got Vic at his elbow, lining up tequila shots under the watchful eye of Kerry. There's a large inflatable penis in the corner wearing the _Bride to Be_ sash and veil Robert had categorically refused to put on, even in the privacy of his own home.

“Right, enough of that face,” Kerry says, thrusting a shot glass at him. “Get that down ya.”

When they'd turned up; Bernice leading the pack in a pair of L plate deely boppers and matching lipstick, Robert had assumed it was a joke. Pretty much until Vic had taken a photo of him scowling beside the penis bride and sent it to Aaron.

“You aren't serious?” he's said, appalled, grabbing for her phone while she danced away.

It was Vanessa who took charge, pushing him into the armchair and handing him a can of some revolting pre-mixed cocktail. “You can't let Aaron have all the fun,” she'd said.

“Is that what this is?”

She'd ignored him. “And let's be honest, if it wasn't for us you and Aaron might never even have got back together so,” she'd shrugged. “We're invested now, sorry.”

Robert had spluttered a _yes we would,_ but he'd slumped back in his seat anyway.

Aaron gets a lads' weekend in Prague. Robert gets a bloody hen do. Typical.

He does three of Kerry's tequila shots, for lack of anything better to do and hoists himself on to the kitchen counter to watch them line up some more and sneak a look at his phone.

Aaron's text him: _You've replaced me already I see_

It takes Robert a while to get it: the photo Vic sent. _Yeah. I figured what's one more massive knob in this house? X_

He gives it a few minutes but there's no reply so he tries again.

_I've been ambushed._

And then, _I miss you x_

His phone lights up thirty seconds later. _Give over I've only been gone a day_

_And a half. Are you saying you don't miss me?_

_I missed you this morning when I woke up being spooned by Paddy_

_Really? Does he not do that thing you like?_

_Fuck off_

Robert can almost see the pink in his cheeks. Aaron's always blushed so easily under his attention; patchy red down his neck and the top of his chest. Robert used to push for it, back in the day, try and embarrass him; teasing with words and wandering hands until Aaron would shake free of his shyness. He used to revel in prising him open; this gruff, grunting, puzzle of a man. Worming his way under Robert's skin until they were inexplicably, irrevocably entwined. Robert used to hang over him, palms in the sheets, mouth red and open. Sometimes it would feel like forever, before Aaron cracked, eyes rolling, leaning up to steal kisses Robert would have given away willingly anyway, if they'd been any other people. At any other time.

But Aaron isn't shy. He wasn't then and he definitely isn't now.

He'd gotten that thing he likes the day before yesterday, walking starkers out of the bathroom, all steam damp and glistening, pretending to rifle through his sock drawer until Robert had no choice but to wrestle him belly-down on the bed and get his mouth on that arse.

Aaron had been grinning afterwards; collapsed in his own filth and drawing Robert down for the sort of wet, open, languid kissing he'd used to avoid. Aaron's shameless with him now.

It makes Robert feel tender, whole body a bruise. Like he's cradling something special; a gift.

 _I love you_ , he sends, because he does.

He gets a _Love you more x_ and a heart emoji back, because Aaron's obviously had a few.

He pockets his phone, feeling that shimmering, bursting fullness he always gets from Aaron. It's happiness, he knows now. Be a shame to waste it.

“Turn the music up then,” he calls over to Bernice. They've got a bottle of Apple Sourz somewhere, confiscated from some teenage girl at Liv's birthday, Aaron had said. What's a hen do without Apple Sourz?

Later, retired to the kitchen table to watch Vanessa and late-comer Charity slow dancing under the stairs, Vic collapses beside him; puff of sweet smelling air and her hand tapping at his knee. “You alright?” she asks.

He nods, puts an arm across the back of her chair for balance when the world spins.

“I did try to talk them out of it,” she says, elbow on the table to rest her head. “You know what Bernice is like.”

Bernice is snoring with her mouth open in Aaron's chair. Robert waves a hand, arm heavy with drink. “It's fine, it's actually been sort of fun. Not sure when all my mates turned into girls though.”

“Be glad you've got any mates at all, some of the stuff you've pulled,” she's teasing and he knows it but it still stings. Maybe the booze is making him maudlin. She nudges him again. “I'm joking. I'm really happy for you. For both of you.”

Robert gives her half a smile, pokes at one of the drained lemon wedges littering the table. “Thanks, sis.”

“Oh!” she says, handing him her phone. “Aaron text me back.”

There's a photo of Aaron on the screen, squashed into a wooden booth, dwarfed by Paddy. Paddy's tomato red, an upturned beer tankard on his head. It reads, _Tell him I've got one of my own. Don't let Charity upstairs._

Aaron's wearing an inexplicable Hawaiian shirt and the bridge of his nose is sunburnt. He's smiling with teeth, cheeks round and boyish, carefree. It makes Robert flush hot all over. That's his. He gets to keep that. Marry that. Robert must be the luckiest bloke on the planet.

It shows on his face, if the look Victoria's giving him is anything to go by, but he finds himself not minding much at all.

 

 


End file.
